First Tastes
by sunsetdelilah
Summary: X-Men: First Class AU rethink of Erik and Charles' first meeting, taking place in a bar in England before the events of the movie. Charles is flirtatious and Erik takes a bit of what he wants.


**First Tastes**

After a grueling day of work on his thesis, Charles feels justified in having rather more beers than would generally be considered wise for a Tuesday evening. He's in good company, making small talk with other students at the bar, but he feels restless without Raven, who'd said she wouldn't be able to make it.

Sighing, Charles turns away from a heated discussion of a psychology professor's qualifications and sweeps his gaze over the far corner of the bar. A number of small tables are clustered together, filled with lovestruck couples and quiet individuals drinking alone.

He's sitting in the furthest corner from where Charles perches on a barstool. Dressed all in black, nursing a scotch, the man's face is mired in shadow but, Charles doesn't miss the stiff carriage of his shoulders and the inhospitable scowl. The man clearly isn't out to have a chat with any of the locals.

He seems a curious enigma, and Charles is tired of the petty conversation around him so without a second thought he grabs his pint, tucks a stray lock of hair behind his ear, and makes a beeline for the table in the back. If his beeline went a little askew along the way, it was surely the bar's lighting; not at all related to the drinks he'd had.

"Did you know," he drawls silkily, spinning a chair to straddle it back-to-front, "that your body language is practically _screaming_ at everyone to keep their distance if they value their lives?"

The man crosses his arms and leans forward, giving Charles his first unobscured view of his face, craggy and stubbled but refined with a sort of harsh beauty that for a moment takes his breath away.

"So you don't value your life, is that it?" the man finally asks bluntly, eyebrow raised. He doesn't seem amused, but Charles ignores that and smiles charmingly.

"Of course I value my life," he shoots back easily, "but what I'm really wondering is what you're drinking and whether you'd like another."

"Dalwhinnie." The man smiles then but Charles is taken aback at the darkness there, the curve of his lips like hard steel. Glittering and dangerous. "I'll take another."

"Groovy!" says Charles, waving in the direction of the bar. He turns and extends a hand to the man. "I'm Charles Xavier."

"Erik Lehnsherr."

"Erik." Charles studies Erik some more as he takes a sip of his beer. He'd decided to try something new - getting grips on people without the use of telepathy. So far, he's got Erik pinned down as a devilishly handsome stranger with a deadly secret, and that in itself makes it sorely tempting to just reach out - it would be so easy - and see just _what_ is going on inside Erik Lensherr's handsome noggin.

"Charles," Erik responds with a hint of a smirk, and Charles realizes what a start that he'd drifted off inside his own head again. "You're that…mutation fellow."

"You could say that. Although I also like a good lager, hot Irish stew and the works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. A man is so much more complex than his studies, after all."

Erik laughs then, and Charles feels his stomach tighten at the way it transforms the man's face completely.

"Do you fancy yourself the Sherlock Holmes of the '60s, then?" Erik asks in amusement. "Where's your Watson, I wonder?"

Charles waggles his eyebrows suggestively. "Currently accepting applications."

When Erik laughs again, Charles has to lick his lips because they've suddenly gone bone dry. Erik watches him take a few large sips of his beer, then finishes off his scotch and stands.

"Let's go for a cigarette," Erik says, the ends of his long fingertips toying with the rim of his empty glass.

"But…I don't smoke," Charles replies. "Besides, you can smoke in here."

Erik's eyes crinkle as he grins. "I prefer the fresh air." Then he raises his fingertips to his lips and Charles watches in fascination as his tongue darts out to lick a last taste of scotch from the ends.

Charles clears his throat and stands, groping for his jacket. "Well blimey, fresh air it is then. Let's go."

The night air is a shock, and Charles realizes just how much he'd drunk that night as he blinks and stumbles over a cobblestone, adjusting. Before he has a chance to right himself, Erik is there, a strong but gentle grip at his elbow guiding him safely along the bumpy street.

"It's alright, you know, I _can_ walk," Charles finally grumbles, but Erik ignores him and veers to the side, leading them both to a space between buildings. "Hey, where are you going? I thought you wanted a cigarette."

"Oh, don't play the fool, Charles, you knew bloody well there wasn't going to be a cigarette involved," says Erik smoothly. "I've got something to show you."

Charles watches, silent, as Erik raises his hands, palms spread upward. Nothing seems to be happening, so Charles squints. It's dark though, and he's had a few, not to mention he's expecting something a little more forward from a man who would lick his fingers seductively in front of someone he'd literally just met.

Then with a sudden gust of air Charles feels himself propelled backwards and pinned. He squirms, but bricks dig into his back through the leather of his jacket and he's not going anywhere.

"Erik, you -" he knows, then. Looking down he sees his belt, his zippers and the soles of his shoes, feels the coins in his pocket, "- why didn't you just _say _something? This is incredible! I've been looking -"

"Why on earth would I say something, Charles?" Erik steps forward and there's a predatory gleam in his eyes, but Charles doesn't feel threatened. "It's so much more fun just to _take_."

Charles is shaking his head when Erik steps forward and trails those tantalizingly long fingers down Charles' cheek. Their eyes meet, and Erik tilts Charles' chin up as he leans in and presses a forceful kiss to his lips; it's a branding of sorts, Charles thinks wildly, feeling completely at Erik's mercy.

Erik deepens the kiss, exploring Charles' mouth with a languid confidence. His fingers move upward and tangle in Charles' hair, pulling just hard enough to wrench a soft moan from his mouth.

And then just like that, Erik is backing away, leaving Charles gasping for air against the wall, still pinned by his own clothing.

Erik rolls his shoulders back and glances at Charles with a look of satisfaction. "Nice to meet you, Charles Xavier. I have a feeling we'll be seeing each other again soon."


End file.
